


Positive Reinforcement

by panpinecone



Series: Lessons And Lectures [2]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anxiety, Couch Sex, Guilt, M/M, Nipple Play, Rough Sex, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 13:30:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18121589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panpinecone/pseuds/panpinecone
Summary: Samuel Ortez is not the professor he thought he was. With any luck, he can still salvage the situation.





	Positive Reinforcement

“Sam, what did you _do?”_ came a hiss from behind him as he unlocked his car.

“Mason,” he acknowledged.

Mason rounded him and blocked off the door to the driver’s seat, as if Sam would otherwise have hopped in and driven away without a backwards glance.

_He knows me too well_.

“Don't play dumb with me,” Mason said. “You're lucky I’m the only one who walked down that hall earlier. Do you have any idea how _loud_ you two were?”

Hopping in his car and driving away was becoming more appealing by the second. Sam took a moment to curse the very universe itself, then calmly gathered his thoughts and composed an eloquent reply.

“Please move.”

It came out more desperate than he would've liked, but it got the point across, which was what mattered.

Right?

Before he could contemplate the matter further, Mason continued on what was sure to be a tirade for the ages.

“I thought _you_ , of _all people_ , would _never_ —”

Or at least it would've been if Sam hadn't interrupted with an even more desperate, “Move. _Please_.”

Mason stared him down for a few seconds. “Fine, but I'm coming along,” he finally said. “You can't avoid this conversation, Sam.”

And then he was on the other side of the car, climbing into the passenger seat.

Sam sighed. This was going to be a long trip.

 

* * *

 

They were halfway to Sam’s apartment when Mason spoke up again.

“So who was it?”

Playing dumb had been proven a fruitless endeavor, so Sam answered truthfully. “One of my students.”

“Obviously,” came the reply. “But _who?”_

“You don't know them.”

The frustration in Mason’s voice was evident when he asked, “How do you know I don’t?”

Sam carefully worded his answer, at last settling on, “I’m sure you would've mentioned them.”

Mason went silent, no doubt mulling over the implications of that, and Sam turned his attention back to the road, desperate to get home and collapse into bed— ideally after having gotten rid of Mason, but he was adaptable.

It wouldn't be the first time he'd slept through visitors overstaying their welcome.

 

* * *

 

Sam placed two cups of tea on the table before taking a seat opposite Mason, dreading his next line of questioning.

“Now how about you tell me exactly what happened.”

And there it was.

Sam spent the next half hour summarizing the events that had come to pass that morning, only leaving out the details that weren’t necessary to the understanding of _why_.

When he finished, Mason cleared his throat.

“I, uh, would ask who fucked who, but you haven’t been that great about keeping a straight face when you sit. Might want to work on that before tomorrow’s class.”

Sam crossed his arms and glared.

 

* * *

 

Hours later, after Mason had given him a thorough lecture on what he should and shouldn’t do from then on out, Sam called him a cab and thanked him for his advice.

A few hours after that, once night fell, Sam laid in bed and stared at the ceiling, contemplating the day’s events.

That may have been the best pounding he'd ever received.

Not that he'd received many, but that limitation did nothing to diminish his assessment. If anything, it only enhanced it. He was going to be jerking off to the memory of that morning for the foreseeable future, wasn't he?

Sam let out a frustrated huff. That was the absolute _last_ thing he needed to be worrying about so close to the semester’s end.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t until he stepped into his classroom the next day that he realized he’d have to see Caboose again. The very thought had his insides twisting up in knots.

No, he could get through it, he just had to remember Mason’s advice: No further contact, ensure boundaries were set up, refuse to negotiate. All basic steps, all things he could do.

Sam set his mind to the task at hand, preparing his lecture notes and counting down the minutes until his students were to start arriving.

The seconds ticked by, Sam blankly stared down at his papers, and the first student walked in.

Instantly, Sam was gripped by the intense fear that she could somehow _sense_ what had happened, what a terrible teacher he was, how he’d failed to uphold a rule as simple as ‘don’t get ravished by your students’.

He froze, heart beating wildly in his chest, but the student didn’t even spare him a glance as she took the same seat as always and began pulling out her notes.

Sam let himself breathe.

Another student walked in and Sam underwent the entire process again. And again, and again, and again.

He was considering calling off the whole lesson and rushing to the nearest emergency room to get his heart rate checked when Caboose walked in.

The effect wasn’t as bad as Sam had been expecting. If anything, his heart actually seemed to calm down, if not altogether return to its regular speed. His breaths evened out, and he managed to avert his eyes just as Caboose sent him a friendly smile.

Class was about to start and Sam had a lecture to give.

He could do it.

 

* * *

 

He did it, and the fact that he considered it such an accomplishment was highly indicative of his mental state.

A professor ought to be professional enough not to doubt their own ability to deliver a lecture, but he supposed he’d long since lost the right to call himself a professional professor.

In any case, the important thing was that he’d gotten through it about as well as could be expected of him.

But then he had to go and ruin it.

“Caboose. A word, please,” he called out as everyone gathered their things and started leaving.

Why, why, _why_ had he done that?

No, he had a good reason, he had to establish boundaries. Mason had told him so, and Sam knew the first step to undoing any mess was to follow his advice.

A minute went by, during which he occupied himself with sorting out all his materials so that he could leave as soon as his talk with Caboose was over. In his peripheral vision, he spotted the last of his students walk out, followed by the telltale shuffling that announced someone’s arrival at his desk.

He looked up and found himself face-to-face with Caboose’s beaming smile.

“Which word?”

“I... What?”

“You said you wanted a word,” reminded Caboose.

Right, yes, okay. Sam could do this.

_Just do what Mason said to do_.

He rose from his desk and strode to the room’s door, shutting it just enough so their voices wouldn’t carry, then turned back around.

Caboose was still looking at him with that friendly smile.

“Caboose...”

“Yes, Mr. Principal Ortez?”

Sam walked back to his desk, resting his hands on the back of the chair and reciting, “What happened yesterday should not have happened, and _must not_ happen ever again. Do you understand?”

Caboose’s smile gave way to a frown. “But I thought you had fun?” he asked.

“...That’s irrelevant,” Sam said, looking away. “All that matters is that I’m your teacher and you’re my student, and there are guidelines that all teachers and students have to follow.”

“Why?”

Sam had no obligation to answer that. He’d already explained what he’d needed to and might as well leave. Unfortunately for him, he knew how irksome unanswered questions were, and he _was_ a professor. It was his job to teach.

“Because it’s an abuse of power,” he supplied, picking up his things and hoping that Caboose would take the hint and drop the matter.

No such luck.

“What power?” Caboose asked.

“The power that comes with being a teacher,” Sam replied. “Offering better grades in exchange for favors, to name an example.”

“No, that’s okay, I’ve been remembering this chapter much better since you helped me with it!” Caboose chirped, smile returning.

Guilt bubbled up in Sam. “I didn’t help you.”

“Don’t be silly, Mr. Principal Ortez, you helped a lot!” Caboose assured, eyes shining brightly. “I just needed to relax and have some fun. Learning new things is always easier when you have fun.”

Sam couldn’t really argue _that_. Everyone had their own learning styles, and it seemed Caboose’s was...

Whatever it was.

“Regardless, I can’t help you like that again,” Sam said, making his way to the door. “I’m sure you can find alternate methods for having fun.”

“But...”

Sam gave Caboose a questioning look over his shoulder.

“...Don’t you want to have fun with me again?”

Caboose sounded so utterly rejected that Sam couldn’t help his overly empathetic heart from twinging in compassion.

But compassion didn’t mean he had to let Caboose have his way.

 

* * *

 

He silently drove back home, letting Caboose have his way in the passenger seat beside him.

Why?

Sam hadn’t the slightest idea, and frankly, was too upset with himself to analyze the matter any further.

Caboose talked throughout the ride and Sam couldn’t pay attention to a word of it, already feeling Mason’s wrath looming over him. How hard was it to follow such basic advice? Something _had_ to be wrong with Sam. He’d always known it, but to have it confirmed in such an unorthodox way?

_You’re a sham, Samuel Ortez_.

“Uh, Mr. Principal Ortez? I’m pretty sure you can go when the light’s green.”

As if to prove Caboose right, a loud honk sounded from the car behind them.

Great, now Sam was holding up traffic too.

How much lower could he stoop?

 

* * *

 

By what had to be sheer luck, Sam managed to get the two of them safely back to his apartment, a feat which was...

Bad, actually.

What in the world was he _thinking?_

As frustrated as Sam felt by the progression of events, all he managed to do was utter an invitation to come inside, which predictably, Caboose accepted.

Once Sam locked the door behind them and offered Caboose a cup of tea, he set about fully resigning himself to the fact that he’d just have to, well, resign. Things couldn’t continue like this, not if Sam had any say in it— which, now that he thought about it, he never did seem to.

“Are you thinking about things?” Caboose asked from the spot he’d chosen on the couch.

Sam sighed as he poured out their tea. “I am.”

“Oh, that’s always neat! What things are you thinking about?”

“I’m thinking about how I should resign,” Sam said, setting a cup down in front of Caboose and taking a seat with his own in hand. “I’ve crossed lines I shouldn’t have, and though I can’t go back, I can at least ensure that I never cross those lines again.”

Caboose nodded in apparent understanding. “Like mazes,” he said.

Sam sipped at his tea and considered the comparison. It wasn’t _completely_ disconnected. Then again, what did Sam know?

“I suppose so,” he replied, gazing at Caboose.

It was strange to see him sitting on Sam’s couch. In truth, the whole situation was strange from start to finish, but it was the sight of a student casually lounging in his apartment that had Sam’s mind going haywire.

He cleared his throat and asked, “Why are you here?”

“You invited me in, don’t you remember?” Caboose asked, watching him warily. “Do you have a bad memory?”

“No, I meant why you came here. You can’t be expecting us to...” Sam faltered, caught up in the memories of their first tryst.

Caboose gave him a curious look.

Sam tried again. “I told you, we can’t ‘have fun’ together. It’s against the rules.”

“Ah, I hate those,” Caboose said, reaching down for his cup of tea and taking a large swallow. “Mmm. Burning.”

Sam blinked at the display, then took another sip of his own tea. “Yes, well, rules are meant to be followed,” he said. “My job is to teach history and nothing more. A sexual education isn’t included in that.”

“Of course not, silly! I already know all about sex,” Caboose replied, finishing his tea with another gulp.

“Hmm. In any case, it’s against the rules. I can help you with history, but nothing else.”

“But what if I don’t need help with anything else?” Caboose asked.

“Then there’s no problem.”

Caboose scooted closer and Sam made a point of slowly sipping at his tea.

“Mr. Principal Ortez?”

“...Yes?”

“You look like you need to have more fun.”

Sam finished his tea and set it down. “Do I?”

Caboose nodded.

Sam sighed. He supposed Caboose was right.

 

* * *

 

He might as well just call the university and resign this very minute.

Or the minute before it.

Or before that one.

Honestly, he should’ve resigned a long time ago. What was he doing teaching history when there were much more viable options for him out there, like becoming a hermit?

Being a hermit would guarantee that he’d never end up in his current situation ever again.

Unless he was unusually bad at being a hermit as well.

Caboose squeezed a third finger into him and Sam lost his train of thought, but it hardly mattered. What good was it to think about how terrible he was when it clearly had no effect on getting him to improve?

Sam moaned into one of his couch cushions, pushing back against Caboose’s hand.

“See, isn’t it fun to have fun?” Caboose asked, steadily pumping his fingers into Sam. “You’d probably be a lot happier if you had more fun.”

“ _Mhmm_...”

Caboose steadily removed what little remained of Sam’s clothes as he worked, until the only thing left was his undershirt, pushed up as far as it could go. Though Sam would much rather do without it, he couldn't bring himself to get up and pull it off.

It was nonsensical, but the action had an air of finality about it.

From the very start of their first tryst, Caboose had initiated everything between them, down to the removal of their clothes. Sam had never stopped any of it, which he felt bad enough about, but he'd never actively participated either.

Somehow, the removal of a flimsy undershirt seemed as if it would fully condemn Sam’s depravity once and for all.

It would mean he _wanted_ his student to fuck him.

Well, he did, but only after Caboose had seduced him.

No, he shouldn't think that way. It was _his_ responsibility to have put a stop to it and he _hadn't_ , so he should stop fretting over symbolic gestures and just own up to what he'd done, take the undershirt _off_ —

“Yeah, I can't take that off unless you get up.”

There Caboose went, moving things along without Sam’s input, and after he'd been so ready to take responsibility, too...

Caboose’s fingers left him and Sam sat up. He shifted around, turning to face Caboose, and immediately caught an eyeful of his enormous cock.

Had all that really been inside of Sam a mere day ago?

Caboose tugged at his undershirt and Sam obliged, lifting his arms until it was peeled away.

“There, much better!” Caboose smiled, grabbing Sam’s wrists and pulling him closer. “Would you like to be on top this time?”

Sam stilled. Caboose couldn't mean that, could he? Sam had been ready to take responsibility, but not in such an extreme and sudden manner.

“Like this,” Caboose said, gripping Sam’s sides and dragging him onto his lap.

Ah.

“Or maybe like this,” Caboose suggested, effortlessly adjusting Sam until he was facing away, legs folded up on either side of Caboose’s.

A shiver went up Sam’s back at the feel of Caboose’s cock resting against it, which coincidentally, was about how far Caboose’s cock seemed to reach in the first place.

But no, it was big, but not _that_ big. Sam’s nerves were playing tricks on him.

“Yeah, this works,” Caboose murmured, fastening an arm around Sam’s waist and lifting him to his knees.

He felt Caboose’s cock press at his opening, heavy and full of promise.

“Are you ready, Mr. Principal Ortez?”

“...Yes.”

Caboose’s hips pushed up to meet his in one smooth motion, and a gasp escaped Sam as he was penetrated deeper than he'd ever thought possible. Fortunately, Caboose moved both his hands to grip Sam tight, lessening his worry that he wouldn't be able to hold the position amidst his growing excitement.

Sam cursed himself. Caboose hadn't even really started yet, but here he was, already losing his composure over nothing more than simple penetration.

When exactly had he become so...

_Like this?_

“Do you feel good? Are you having fun?” Caboose asked, slowly drawing his cock back out.

“Y- Yes...”

“Great!”

That was all the warning Sam got before Caboose began thrusting into him in earnest, spearing him open over and over, balls smacking against his own each time. It was all Sam could do to stay in Caboose’s hold and hang on for dear life, in much the same way one would after having severely underestimated a theme park ride.

Sam could hardly _think_ , let alone feel anything but the ceaseless friction in his ass and the fire building in his core.

Was it worth losing his job over?

Logically, no.

But when had he last used logic?

“Mr. Principal Ortez, would you like to try?”

Sam let out something that sounded like a cross between a grunt, moan, and whine. He hoped the questioning note at the end properly conveyed his intended sentiment.

Sure enough, Caboose thrust into him one last time before stilling and answering his poor excuse of a question.

“Moving.”

Caboose lowered his hips, pulling Sam down with him until their weight was back on the couch and they were no longer fighting gravity. Sam’s legs throbbed from the sustained effort and he slumped forward, hands going to Caboose’s knees in an effort to balance himself.

“Would you like to?” Caboose asked again, releasing his hold on Sam’s sides in lieu of caressing his ass.

Sam briefly envisioned getting up and making a run for it while he had the chance. Unfortunately, he highly doubted his legs were stable enough to properly ride Caboose’s cock, much less carry him even halfway across the room.

Besides, hadn’t he decided he’d stop running from his problems?

Not that he wanted to run from Caboose’s cock, but wasn’t that the problem in the first place?

“Are you busy thinking again?”

“Yes,” Sam replied, swinging his legs off the couch and gradually resting his weight on the balls of his feet. It seemed they could only take so much of it before his legs became jittery, wobbly messes, but so long as he remained upright, he was satisfied.

“What are you thinking about?” Caboose asked, fingers lightly playing with Sam’s ponytail.

Sam pushed his weight back and felt Caboose’s cock nudge deeper into him. “I... I was thinking about how I should resign again. Especially after this.”

“Ah, yes, hmm. Hey, did you know your hair’s really nice?”

“...Thank you.”

“You’re welcome!” Caboose replied, fingers leaving Sam’s ponytail to stroke down his back. “Okay, Mr. Principal Ortez, I’m ready! Are you?”

Sam let out a shaky breath and shifted his weight back onto his legs, grimacing at the way they began to tremble. “As ready as I can be.”

Caboose settled his hands on Sam’s hips, the hold loose but steady, likely as a precaution against him losing his balance and tipping overboard, so to speak. Sam was grateful for it, given that he felt no pressing need to add anything to his already vast collection of mortifying memories.

_Alright, Sam_. _If you’re going to do this, do it well_.

He took a breath and began moving, rolling his hips and lifting himself by a couple inches before sliding back down. His muscles quivered and fluttered, but he repeated the movements, hoping he was living up to Caboose’s standards.

Why in the world Caboose’s standards mattered to him was something he’d have to ponder later, when he wasn’t in the process of being fucked by the bearer of those standards.

“You’re really good at this, you know,” Caboose commented.

Sam failed to see how twitching and shivering in his lap was in any way a good attempt at riding him. Still, Sam would take what he could get, and used the praise to spur himself on. He renewed his efforts, lifting himself higher, dropping without finesse, dutifully working his hips back and forth, and all around doing his best to fuck himself on Caboose’s cock. His muscles were quickly losing their strength, but he refused to give up, pushing himself to keep going and going...

Caboose’s arms circled his waist and pulled him close.

“You look like you could use some rest,” Caboose said, running his hands over Sam’s front, toying with his nipples. “It’s probably my turn again anyway.”

Sam let himself go limp, head lolling back on Caboose’s shoulder. He took a moment to regain his breath, sighing in quiet pleasure as Caboose pinched and pulled at his nipples, lightly circling around them before flicking them in quick succession.

For a while, nothing else happened. Sam relaxed in Caboose’s loose embrace, closing his eyes and wondering if he was exhausted enough to fall asleep. He hadn’t even come yet, but regardless, there was bound to be some sort of rule against taking a nap on the person whose cock you were supposed to be riding.

“Oh!” Caboose suddenly exclaimed, abandoning Sam’s nipples. “Here's something new I learned, let me show you!”

Without further explanation, he wedged his hands beneath Sam’s legs and yanked them up, effectively folding him like a pretzel right there on Caboose’s lap.

And then the thrusting started.

Sam looked down, certain that without his dick in the way, he'd have a completely clear view of Caboose impaling him. As it was, Caboose’s hands had traveled up and settled on the back of Sam’s neck, locking him in place without much of an alternative for where to look.

The position was...

_Denigrating_. _Revealing_. _Vulnerable_.

All things he theoretically hated, but in actuality, things he now had to thank for his newly hardening dick.

Being bent in half with no possibility of leverage left him entirely at Caboose’s mercy, which was a terrifying thought in and of itself, but something about it stoked a fire deep within him. It was simultaneously exciting and soothing, leaving him with the overwhelming sense that the situation was just _right_.

His orgasm caught him by surprise, and he moaned and shuddered in Caboose’s grip as it ran its course.

Caboose either didn't notice or didn't care, continuing to fuck him throughout it and then some. Though Sam’s body grew sated and heavy, it didn't seem to make much of a difference, with Caboose showing no signs of straining to keep holding him up.

Briefly, Sam wondered what he'd gotten himself into. It was evident that his trysts with Caboose were hardly a one-time thing anymore, but really? Getting off on a student fucking him in a position surely pulled straight from porn?

Mason’s warnings rang through his head and he _almost_ cared, but then Caboose was yelling and his thrusts were speeding up and—

And then it was over.

 

* * *

 

Sam’s legs were still a bit numb, despite his ongoing attempts to get his circulation flowing properly.

He was certain that he looked like a mess, but he was also too tired to care. Caboose had wandered off to the bathroom, presumably to clean himself off, which was something Sam would've been tempted to call dibs on if not for the fact that he likely would've fallen flat on his face if he'd stood up so soon.

Cautiously, he attempted it. To his relief, he managed to stay upright, but his victory was short-lived as Caboose walked back into the room.

It was time for Sam to address the whole entire _thing_.

Well, maybe not time exactly, at least not until he'd gotten rid of all the cum both on and inside him.

Also not until he could actually take halfway decent steps.

“That was fun,” Caboose piped up, looking for all the world like he could be referring to any number of far more innocent activities than ‘I fucked my history professor for a grade but possibly also other reasons that said professor hasn't quite figured out yet, let him get back to you on that’.

It was the perfect opportunity for Sam to speak up. He could stop everything and have a serious talk about what was happening and how they could work past it.

Instead, he felt himself nod.

Caboose’s answering grin had Sam wondering if the missed opportunity was actually worth it, but his musings were cut short by Caboose carrying on the one-sided conversation.

“Was that okay? I know you don't really talk much so I just kept going when you didn't complain, but did you like it? Is that something we can try again?”

_Again_.

Sam could practically feel the way his mind was tearing itself in two, one side firmly set in the belief that he should crush any and all illusions that anything like that was ever going to happen again, and the other side doing a very good impression of a slobbering dog eyeing a treat.

Before he could answer, Caboose stepped close and swiped a finger across his cheek.

“You got some on you,” was all he said by way of explanation before promptly licking the finger clean.

It was so much, too much, how could a lone Samuel Ortez be expected to deal with that much in one day?

He hastily retreated to the bathroom, only stumbling once.

 

* * *

 

He returned to the living room to find Caboose happily sitting on the couch, still completely naked.

It was honestly somewhat of a relief, as only then did Sam realize he hadn't redressed either. On the off-chance that Caboose had gotten his clothes back on, Sam’s return would’ve become considerably more awkward.

_Okay, Sam_. _Do it_.

“We need to talk,” he announced, standing in the middle of the room.

Caboose watched him expectantly.

“About us,” Sam elaborated.

Caboose nodded excitedly.

“We can’t keep doing this.”

“...Talking?” Caboose asked.

“Having sex,” Sam corrected.

“But we just did.”

“Yes, and we can’t anymore.”

Caboose gave him a suspicious look. “You’re just saying that so you can surprise me when you change your mind.”

“No, I mean it.”

“That’s _exactly_ what someone trying to surprise me would say!”

Sam crossed his arms and glared down at the ground, which had the unhelpful drawback of reminding him how naked he was.

Because they’d just had sex.

He growled under his breath.

“We _can’t_ ,” he tried again. “The only reason this ever happened is because I _didn’t do my job_. I shouldn’t even have my job anymore, not if I’d been responsible and resigned the moment you left my office yesterday.”

Caboose frowned. “But why can’t we?”

“Because I’m your teacher and you’re my student, and your grades—”

“Oh, I told you, I don’t care about those. I’m doing pretty good on my own, you don’t have to change them.”

“It’s not that simple,” Sam huffed, still standing in place and wishing he’d sat down before starting the discussion. Doing so now would only serve to diffuse it and downplay his points.

“Why not?”

“Because my _bias_ will come through whether I want it to or not! I’ll be inclined to give your test answers the benefit of the doubt whenever possible, and it’ll all be because we’ve entered a sexual relationship, which is an advantage other students don’t have!”

“...We’re in a sexual relationship?”

“W— _Yes_ , we are.”

The smile that blossomed on Caboose’s face should _not_ have had any sort of positive effect on Sam, but it was rapidly becoming clear that nothing behaved as it should where Caboose was involved.

Sam sighed and and uncrossed his arms, making his way to the couch and gingerly sitting down as far from Caboose as possible.

“Mr. Principal Ortez?”

“Yes, Caboose?”

“I really like being in a sexual relationship with you.”

_Please, not the puppy eyes_...

“What about you, do you like it too?”

... _Unfortunate_.

“Were we not teacher and student, I’d be inclined to agree,” Sam said.

“But since we are?”

“I’m inclined to disagree.”

Caboose pursed his lips and furrowed his brow, looking up at the ceiling in apparent thought. Sam watched him in silence, wondering if the message had finally sunk in.

Abruptly, Caboose turned to him and asked, “What if I switched classes?”

Sam blinked. “That’s something you could do, yes.”

“And then you’d like being in a sexual relationship with me?”

That would still be a bold statement, but...

“I may see the fun in it.”

Caboose’s eyes shone with glee and Sam realized he’d sealed his fate.


End file.
